


Ice in Their Bones and Snow in Their Breaths

by pastelfeathers



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Yuri learns to love the ice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 04:11:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10506096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelfeathers/pseuds/pastelfeathers
Summary: With Skate Canada and Cup of China out of the way, Skate America, Trophée de France, Rostelecom Cup and NHK Trophy go by in a blur.Each placement below gold is a blow to his ego, a reminder that Yuri may be a prodigy but he’s not the best by far. He practices harder, dedicates more time to skating, to the ice, till he can no longer feel the chill, till the chill is a part of him.He sees Victor and Yuuri again and again, and each time, he walks away feeling a bit off kilter, like the sight of the two standing close together and speaking in quiet voices disturbs him on an instinctual level.Yuri doesn’t understand why.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I am not sorry. :P

Yuri is four when his feet touches ice for the first time.

Despite what some fans may imagine, Yuri does not take to ice like a duck to water. In reality, Yuri flails and clutches desperately at the railings that he’s barely tall enough to grip onto and tries to understand why anyone would ever wish to be atop this frozen deathtrap.

However, he doesn’t truly develop a hatred for ice until his first fall.

Some clumsy girl in his beginners skating class bumps into him and causes both of them to go tumbling down. Yuri gasps as the breath is knocked out of him. The ice is cold and hard beneath his mitten clad hands, and his elbows aches where he’s fallen on it.

It hurts.

Yuri hates the ice.

\---

Yuri’s mother is late.

It is not the first time she is late to pick him up from his skating lessons, but as the minutes tick by, Yuri knows with inexplicable certainty that this is not like the other times. She isn’t late this time, she simply isn’t planning to come.

He watches the other children in his class, happily chattering as their parents pick them up, one by one. Bundled and cuddled in warmth as they recount the events of today’s lesson, too wide grins and oblivious laughter, not a single one of spare him a second glance as they head out with their guardians.

That’s alright, Yuri tries to reassure himself, he doesn’t need them anyway.

He doesn’t need anyone.

Especially not his mother, who treats him with a cool distance that has never thawed despite how hard he tries to please her.

 

Just like the damnable ice, unyieldingly cold and painful to touch.

Yuri curls into a small ball on the floor by the rink, ignoring the dirt on the ground and shuddering against the chill as it seeps through his clothing and sinks into his bones.

What is he going to do?

Just as the tears begin prickling in the corner of his eyes, Yuri hears rapidly approaching footsteps.

‘Yuratchka,’ his grandfather said, out of breath and tousled by the wind outside, ‘I’m sorry you had to wait.’

Yuri blinks past tears.

His grandfather bends down carefully and pulls Yuri into a hug.

‘We don’t need her,’ his grandfather says gruffly, ‘you have me Yuratchka.’

Yuri clutches to his grandfather and cries.

\---

Yuri quits taking skating lessons shortly after his mother’s departure. She was already gone and no matter how hard he practices from that point on, she isn’t going to come back.

Which is fine with Yuri, because he hates the ice anyway.

But a few days before his seventh birthday, Yuri learns about his family history from the gossipy old lady who lives two houses down. She tells him all about the events that his grandfather had hid from him. He learns that the Plisetsky family has always had ice in their bones and snow in their breaths, and that the chill is as visceral a part of them as their viscera.

Yuri learns that his mother is a black sheep, one who turned against every family custom and wasted years of training and money in order to be ordinary. He learns that his mother is just like him, in that she hated the ice and wanted no part of it, even though leaving the figure skating world meant breaking his grandfather’s heart.

That night, Yuri asks his grandfather to enroll him in figure skating classes. He isn’t sure who is more surprised, his grandfather or himself, when his grandfather agrees.

They don’t speak of his sudden interest in figure skating, but over the course of the next week, Yuri finds that a few more photos have been carefully restored to their rightful place on the mantle and tables, depicting the Plisetsky family at various figure skating competitions. He traces the happily beaming faces and wonders what it means to love the ice.

His grandfather takes him to the rink the Monday after for his new class, and to Yuri’s joy, his grandfather elects to stay for the lesson. Yuri is so excited to have a doting parental figure that it takes him a moment to realize that he is older than many of the kids in his class, and he falters.

But when Yuri looks back, his grandfather’s eyes are shining with pride and Yuri knows, at that moment, that he will be a competitive figure skater.

He’s going to make his grandfather proud.

\---

Yuri grows into his looks by the time he turns ten.

He has slowly shed the baby fat and slimmed down over the course of his training, as is expected for all figure skaters. He postpones cutting his hair for a few months and learns to like the longer length when girls fawn over it with blushes and giggles.

Yuri learns from his coach that his looks is just another skill, albeit a god given one, but it’s still a skill he needs to hone in order to win. So he does, Yuri learns how to flirt the same way he learns to skate, by failing and falling and getting up again and again until he gets it right. He practices smiling in the mirror and how to angle his face so he can make the most of his full lashes and sharp green eyes.

He’s going to do whatever it takes to win.

\---

In the intervening years leading up to his first competition, Yuri doesn’t learn to love the ice so much as he learns to dominate it.

He learns how to gracefully glide across the glassy surface, to twirl and jump and dance with such alacrity that he is hailed as a child prodigy. Yuri basks in the applause and adulation that follow in the wake of his skating sessions and rejoices in the proud grin his grandfather presents him every time Yuri brings home another trophy.

Yuri still dislikes the ice, but he thinks he’s finally learning to let go of his animosity.

\---

Victor is like Yuri.

From what Yuri’s seen of Victor’s performances, neither of them particularly love the ice, but they’re fantastic at controlling it.

Victor is also like Yuri, in that they are both ruthless and will do anything to win.

The only difference is their attitude.

Still, as Yuri eyes Victor’s blandly smiling face, he wonders just how far that smile really goes.

\---

Yuri meets his Japanese doppelganger for the first time in a washroom.

The other Yuuri is pathetic, his face is blotchy from the tears and his nose is dripping with snot. The Japanese man is shaking and Yuri wants to hit him, wants to ask him why the hell did you start skating if you’re not willing to give it your all, but he refrains himself.

Instead, he tells the other man to quit and calls him a moron.

Yuri feels a brief flash of remorse when the other man pales at his words and looks seconds from fainting, but he chokes back the gruff apology.

He’s granting the other man a small mercy, Yuri tells himself, he saw the other man’s performance on the ice and it’s obvious that the other Yuuri hates the ice as much as he does.

\---

He’s wrong.

The other Yuuri loves the ice.

Yuri feels his face tighten in disbelief when he finishes watching the other man’s video, the one where the Japanese skater manages to not only skate Victor’s signature routine, but does so with such emotions that it creates a sudden ache in Yuri’s chest.

It’s anger, Yuri reassures himself, because Victor left him for this other Yuuri.

That’s why his chest is hurting.

Not because, for the first time in his life, Yuri thinks he sees how beautiful figure skating really could be.

\---

So he goes to Japan and gets himself a nickname, ‘Yurio’, as if he’s the unwanted doppelganger.

He hangs around the other Yuuri’s home and encroaches upon the other man’s training with tenacity. He fights to maintain Victor’s attention and grumbles at the other Yuuri at every opportunity.

Then he is forced to dance the Agape, and Yuri feels like throttling Victor’s stupidly beaming face, because of course the man would assign him a routine that he would fail spectacularly at. His one consolation is that the other Yuuri seems to be just as horrified by his new routine.

\---

Of course the other Yuuri wins.

Yuri can’t even begrudge Victor.

No, that’s a lie, Yuri does begrudge Victor, not for awarding the win to Yuuri but for leaving Yuri without so much a warning.

Just like his mother.

And isn’t that a fun connection to make.

Yuri scowls and turns up the music a bit louder, hoping it would drown out the fury seething beneath his skin and the flashes of silky black fabric that flicker behind his eyelids.

Stupid Yuuri, he snarls inwardly, he’ll show them.

He’s going to show them all.

\---

Lilia scares the crap out of Yuri with her sheer competence and straightforwardness.

She’s not friendly like Victor was, nor does she freely give out smiles or hugs, but she does toss him a water bottle the first time Yuri nails his routine with far more grace and emotion than he’s ever been capable of displaying in the past.

It’s not the same as Victor’s encouragement, but it’s enough.

From that point on, Yuri throws himself into his training with a fervor that frightens everyone but his grandfather and himself. His grandfather is gentle in his rebukes and even gentler with his reminders for Yuri to mind his health. Yuri smiles and agrees, then he goes back to the rink and forces himself to go through more routines.

He still snarks at Yakov, because the man is old and strict and Yuri chafes under his coaching, but Yuri takes his advice more often than not nowadays.

Yuri may be the Russian Punk, but he’s not willing to let his pride cost him his victory.

\---

He meets Victor and Yuuri at the Cup of China, and manages not to scowl or snap at either of them, a feat considering his normal disposition. In return, Victor attempts to hug him and Yuuri manages to give him a small, tremulous smile.

Yuri looks away.

If later, during his routine, he brings to mind Yuuri’s uncertain but warm smile, it’s no one’s business but his own. And if that smile should help him find enough warmth in himself to give a soft smile as he skates, well, that’s also nobody’s business but his own.

Even if that’s what ends up winning him the gold medal.

It’s a close call, and as he stands besides Yuuri on the podium, Yuri is struck with the urge to taunt the Japanese man, to say ‘see, I didn’t need Victor after all, you can have him’. But he doesn’t, because even though Yuuri only placed bronze, there is a pride in Victor’s eyes that reminds Yuri of his grandfather.

He stays quiet.

And when Yuuri congratulates him softly after, Yuri even manages to nod tersely back before pivoting on his heels and walking away.

Later, he will wonder why Yuuri approached him, especially given their history and Yuri’s attitude in general, but in the moment, he’s more focused on trying to figure out why his face feels hot or why his chest hurts.

\---

With Skate Canada and Cup of China out of the way, Skate America, Trophée de France, Rostelecom Cup and NHK Trophy go by in a blur.

Each placement below gold is a blow to his ego, a reminder that Yuri may be a prodigy but he’s not the best by far. He practices harder, dedicates more time to skating, to the ice, till he can no longer feel the chill, till the chill is a part of him.

He sees Victor and Yuuri again and again, and each time, he walks away feeling a bit off kilter, like the sight of the two standing close together and speaking in quiet voices disturbs him on an instinctual level.

Yuri doesn’t understand why.

\---

Yuri still has no clue by the time of the Grand Prix.

He stands with Yakov on the other side of the railing and watches as Yuuri attempts to convey how he fell in love with the ice in front of thousands of international spectators.

Yuuri does not control the ice as well as Victor or Yuri, it’s why his jumps are arguably always going to be his weak spot.

However, it’s clear from his performance that Yuuri loves the ice. It’s how he can glide and spin and jump for hours on the ice and still look at peace, as if the ice is warming him from the inside out.

It might make Yuri’s heart beat a little faster in his chest.

He holds his breath when Yuuri attempts a Quad Axel, and releases it when Yuuri lands perfectly.

Yuri wants to stop watching after Yuuri does a flawless Quad Salchow, but he can’t bear to tear his eyes away from the other man’s graceful figure.

In the end, he watches Yuuri’s performance from beginning to end and swallows around the sense of failure, which tastes sour in his mouth.

\---

He is unsurprised when Yuuri places gold in the Grand Prix.

\---

“You’ve grown,” Victor remarks with an amused grin, coming to a stop beside Yuri after the ceremony.

Yuri eyes the former world champion and replies flatly, “have I.”

Victor, the bastard, chuckles and reaches over to ruffle his hair. “You did well.”

I don’t need your praise, Yuri thinks viciously as he bats away Victor’s hand. He grunts in reply and ignores the faux-sad look Victor aims at him.

“Why are you here,” Yuri says, he has a feeling that Victor won’t be going away until he’s satisfied.

Victor hums.

“Yuuri loves the ice,” he says apropos of nothing.

Yuri snorts and almost says ‘I know’ before realizing that might giveaway the turmoil inside his head, so instead he says, “that’s fantastic, now if you have nothing else to say, I’d like to go-“

“It’s why I decided to coach him,” Victor continues blithely, ignoring Yuri completely.

They stand in silence for a few seconds.

“That’s bullshit,” Yuri finally says around gritted teeth, “you coached him because you wanted to win and you needed to back a winning horse. You saw Yuuri’s video, you knew his only issue was confidence, and you knew you could give him that.” He sneers, “don’t pretend like you had a selfless reason for running away to Japan.”

“Believe what you want,” Victor says with a shrug, “but you might want to keep what I said in mind if you ever decide you want to win.” That said, he strolls away, like they’d just had a nice chat about the weather and he hadn’t just torn out Yuri’s heart with a few barbed words.

What a fucking asshole.

\---

“Yuri?”

Yuri pauses, he’s ashamed to admit that he had needed a few moments to compose himself after the delightful conversation with Victor and was now planning to head out to the nearest rink and lick his wounds in peace.

He turns and favours Yuuri with a small grimace, thankful to notice that Victor was not with the Japanese skater.

“What.”

Yuuri gives him a small embarrassed smile, and reaches up to rub awkwardly through his scruffy black hair, it inexplicably causes Yuri to want to comb it back into neatness. Yuri swallows and clenches his hands into fists to prevent himself from following through with that insane idea.

“I just wanted to say that it’s been great competing with you,” says Yuuri earnestly, like the idiot that he is, “if, if you hadn’t shown up at the beginning, I don’t know if I would have found the drive to compete for Victor’s mentorship and-“

God damn it.

He doesn’t want to hear the rest of Yuuri’s no doubt heartfelt speech and steps forward in order to tell the other the shut the fuck up to his face. Yuri might have curbed his antagonism in their previous few encounters but that doesn’t mean the resentment is gone, and right now he wants this annoyingly sincere man to stop talking.

He’s not sure how his brain translated wanting to silence Yuuri into kissing Yuuri.

But that’s what he does.

Yuri surges forward and kisses the other with enough force that it sends Yuuri awkwardly stumbling back a few step. It’s not a great kiss. In the heat of the moment, Yuri isn’t careful and they bump noses and clack teeth. It’s painful and terrible, but then Yuri forces himself to gentle, to cradle Yuuri’s trembling face with his hand and guide their mouths together in a sweeter kiss.

Yuuri gasps and chokes out something that sounds like ‘what’.

Yuri ignores this and focuses instead on trying to coax Yuuri’s mouth open, so he could get a better taste of this infuriating man, who single handedly stole away his coach, his medal and his dream.

But then he hears approaching footsteps, and the moment is broken when Yuri hears Victor’s startled ‘oh’.

Yuuri pushes him away, red faced and wide eyed, looking as guilty as a dog who’s snuck into the pantry. “Victor,” Yuuri says, voice thick with emotions.

Oh, Yuri thinks past the sinking feeling in his stomach, that’s how it is.

Of course it is.

Of course Yuuri is in love with Victor.

He wants to say something scathing to Victor, something cruel to make light of the fact that he might have stolen Yuuri’s first kiss, something to divert the attention away from the fact that he had just put his heart out there and had it stomped into the ground. But he finds that he actually can’t look at Victor or Yuuri right now, so instead, Yuri mumbles something that might have been sorry or excuse me or fuck, and walks away.

\---

Yuri does not end up going to the rink.

Instead, he goes into his hotel room and texts his grandfather an apology and a request to give him some time, then he shuts down his phone and curls up in the dark.

He thinks of the past, of his mother and his grandfather and the Plisetsky name.

He thinks of his own routine, of the mistakes he made, all the missteps and fumbles that led up to his defeat.

He thinks of what he’s going to do tomorrow, how he’s going to continue training, how he’s going to face the ice and not want to smash his fists into it.

He doesn’t think about the kiss.

Or of Victor and Yuuri.

Yuri doesn’t realize he’s stayed up the whole night until he sees the sky brightening up outside the window.

He slowly rises from the bed and watches the sun rise from his hotel room, and thinks that maybe it’s time he went home.

\---

Going home meant going back to his grandfather’s small but cozy house in Yekaterinburg.

Yuri is welcomed back with a cool cup of mors and a warm hug.

His grandfather calls him Yuratchka with a wry grin and tells him he is proud of him.

They spend a week or so catching up, just puttering around the house and the neighborhood, avoiding the crowd when possible. Yuri also spends an inadvisable amount of time playing with and taking photos of Tepa, his gorgeous Himalayan.

He knows he can’t quit figure skating since it’s his family’s only source of income, but Yuri is also not quite ready to return to the rink.

His grandfather is patient with him, and says nothing when Yuri says that he might stay a bit longer.

However, Yakov calls two days into the next week and reprimands Yuri for his absence, in return Yuri calls him a balding buffoon and hangs up. Yakov calls him back immediately and calls him a little shit, and in the background Yuri can hear Lilia scoffing about his temper tantrum. But there is an undertone of genuine concern underneath both of their blustering so Yuri doesn’t hang up again.

Instead, he listens as Yakov tells him about an upcoming interview with some network or the other and agrees absentmindedly when his coach says the crew will come to him in order to get a better understanding of his home environment.

\---

Imagine Yuri’s surprise when, three days later, he walks in the temporary television studio and sees no other but Victor fucking Nikiforov standing primly near the entrance and smiling.

Yuri takes a step back and bumps into Yakov.

“What the fuck?” he says, “what is he doing here?”

Yakov gives him a disapproving frown, “I told you, this is an interview for the winning contestants.”

Yuri freezes then says, a bit desperately, “but the network is going to each contestant’s hometown right?”

“Supposedly yes,” Victor says, smile firmly in place as he strides forward to greet them properly, “but given Yuuri’s stunning victory, the network presented him an opportunity to travel along to see the other medalists’ hometowns.”

Yuri winces inwardly.

He hasn’t allowed himself to think about Yuuri since that disastrous kiss, but now that Victor’s in front of him, it’s only a matter before Yuuri is here as well.

Yuri takes a deep breath and thinks of his grandfather’s proud face and of Tepa’s gentle purr. He can do this, he can face the man he kissed and got rejected from and it’ll be fine.

Everything will be fine.

\---

It is not fine.

Yuuri is everywhere.

The program is supposed to be wrapped up in a few days, but in those few days, Yuri manages to see more of Yuuri than the previous few months combined. He sees Yuuri happily chatting with Victor on set, or talking quietly with Yakov by the crafts table, and once, memorably, even what appears to be Yuuri feeding a stray cat in the parking lot.

It’s driving Yuri mad, because for all that they see each other, they don’t talk.

Yuuri had turned bright red when they first met on set and given Yuri a small smile, looking for all intents and purposes like he was uncomfortable in Yuri’s presence. It hadn’t helped that Victor chose that moment to sling a casual arm over Yuuri’s shoulder and coo over how adorably red the Japanese man’s cheeks were. That was the extent of their interactions, barring what was filmed, which largely consists of Yuri taking everyone around on a tour of Yekaterinburg and telling them stories of the past.

He shows them the Visotsky Business Center Lookout, the Yekaterinburg State Academical Opera and Ballet Theatre, the Kharitonovskiy Garden and more, all strategically selected by the television program in conjunction with the Yekaterinburg tourism department.

Yuri tries not to dwell on the fact that Yuuri appears to be perfectly happy to chat with him on camera but jumps every time they come close to one another off camera.

He mostly fails.

\---

On the last day of shooting Yuri sees Yuuri by himself, in an alleyway nearby the studio. He is crouched on the ground and appears to be talking to himself.

To his self-disgust, Yuri doesn’t even pause for a second before he’s moving closer, enticed by the idea of speaking to the other man alone. Yuuri looks up guiltily once he is closer, and Yuri spies what appears a mangy looking stray poised tersely beneath the Japanese man’s hands. There is an empty can of cat food beside Yuuri’s feet.

Somehow, this is the last straw.

“What is wrong with you?” Yuri spits out.

He feels vindicated when Yuuri jumps visibly and flounders for a moment, “nothing?”

“Why are you out in the cold like a fucking idiot,” Yuri asks flatly.

Yuuri shoots a panicked look at the stray before looking back at him, “I, uh, the stray?”

“I see the stray, but why are  **you** out in the cold,” Yuri snaps, “why not get some set crew to do it if you’re so worried.”

“I’ve grown to like cats,” says Yuuri in a small voice, a red blush slowly climbing up his neck and his cheeks, “they’re sweet when they want to be.”

Yuri is inexplicably furious, and before he realizes it, he has his doppelganger pinned to the wall, hands gripping tightly on the other’s shoulders. He shakes the Japanese man rather roughly, as if that would force the other to give him more comprehensible answer.

“You won,” Yuri shouts out around the bitter lump in his throat, “you won and you get to have Victor, is that not good enough for you? Why do you have to like cats?” Yuri tells himself to stop, he’s starting to sound crazy, but the words keep coming. “Why are you even here? Why do you ruin everything? Why do you always have to be-“

He cuts himself off, mortified to realize that the next words out of his mouth were going to be ‘on my mind’.

For his part, Yuuri looks terribly shaken up, his face is red again and his hands are gripping awkwardly on top of Yuri’s hands. His glasses are slightly askew and when Yuri looks down slightly, he sees that Yuuri’s lips are parted in surprise.

It makes him want to kiss Yuuri again.

But he doesn’t, though his control is tested when Yuuri’s tongue darts out to lick at his lips.

Fuck, his lips look softer with a hint of moisture-

Yuri hisses like a wounded cat and backs away, feeling like a completely pervert for thinking such thoughts about someone who is clearly smitten with another man.

He feels his face heat up, partly in anger at himself and partly in embarrassment, and makes to leave. This was a mistake, he should have just walked by and ignored this confoundedly confusing man.

“Yuri,” he hears Yuuri say, “I’ve grown to like cats because while they’re not always the most affectionate creatures, they are fierce and they fight for what they want with an admirable tenacity. They make me strive to be better because I can never let myself be stagnant around them. They don’t believe in me, but that makes me want to try harder so that I can win their respect one day. They made figure skating interesting and vibrant and-“ Yuuri breaks off with a frustrated sigh. “Is this, does this make sense?”

Yuri tries not to be bitter, but he thinks this is what it sounds like when someone is trying to let you down gently. “Yeah,” he snarls back, ignoring the look of hurt that flashes across Yuuri’s face, “I get it, Victor inspires you, he’s fantastic, he’s the reason you worked so hard-“

Yuuri’s eyes are getting wider.

“-and he’s the reason you decided to continue pursuing your dreams. I get it,” Yuri finishes bitterly.

“I’m not sure you do,” says Yuuri enigmatically, but there’s a look in his eyes now, one that Yuri sees sometimes in Yakov or Lilia’s eyes when he’s being extra annoying, a look of exasperated fondness. Before his mind can comprehend why Yuuri has that look, the Japanese man is stepping close and gently grabbing his chin.

Oh, Yuri thinks as his heart begins to beat in triple time.

Oh.

He waits with baited breath.

And is momentarily disappointed when Yuuri does not kiss him on the lips, instead choosing to give him a gentle peck on the cheek.

“What the fuck,” Yuri says in bemusement.

Yuuri draws back with a nervous laugh, “well, you’re only fifteen and I’m twenty-three so-“

Not a rejection then.

Yuri surges up to kiss Yuuri, being careful this time so as to not have a repeat of their terrible first kiss. Yuuri groans against his lips and makes protesting noises for a few short seconds before he relents, and fairly melts against Yuri.

Yuuri tastes sweet and cool when Yuri finally coaxes the other to open his mouth, and he delights in the muffled gasp Yuuri gives when he catches and teasingly sucks on the other’s tongue.

Eventually, Yuri gets greedy and starts to run his hands down the other man’s body, wondering if there’s a conceivable way for him to get his hands on skin. It’s when he manages to get Yuuri’s jacket unzipped, that the Japanese man breaks off their kisses with a disapproving look.

“No,” Yuuri says, but the effect is somewhat dampened by his too red lips and rosy cheeks, “you’re definitely not allowed to do this yet and I don’t want to get in trouble and I definitely don’t want to corrupt you-“

Yuri snorts.

“-nope, don’t want to know why you’re giving me that look, I just can’t bring myself to continue doing this with an underage child.”

“You didn’t seem to mind it a few seconds ago,” Yuri points out, there’s a hint of worry gnawing at the corner of his mind that perhaps Yuuri was just being kind, that the other man doesn’t feel the same confusing feeling that Yuri does but also didn’t want to completely push him away.

Yuuri must see something on his face because his expression gentles.

Yuri swallows when the Japanese skater reaches out and grabs one of his hands. “And I don’t mind it now,” Yuuri admits, “but that doesn’t make it right. I like you Yuri, and I think, you like me, but you’re also very young.”

Yuri opens his mouth to protest.

“No, hear me out. You’re also very young and you’re still growing, so what you’re feeling now might change in the future.” Yuuri looks saddened by that, “so I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be involved romantically in any way.”

Stung, Yuri tries to pull his hand away, obviously this was a rejection after all.

Yuuri holds on with a small frown. “That said,” he clears his throat awkwardly, “I am, perhaps a hopeless romantic, but I am ah- perhaps willing to wait. For you.”

Yuri stops struggling.

“But no pressure,” Yuuri says, eyes darting nervously to meet Yuri’s disbelieving gaze, “I just mean that we should maybe stay in contact, platonically, and if, once you’re of legal age, you wanted to maybe meet up so we can go on a date, then-“

“The legal age in Russia is 16,” Yuri interrupts, unable to stop the sly smirk that’s slowly spreading across his face, “so I guess I’ll be seeing you in less than a year?”

Yuuri gives him a startled look that melts into one of fond amusement, “no way, we are not trying anything until you are 18, if not older.”

“But-“

“I’m willing to wait,” Yuuri repeats himself, and Yuri finds his cheeks warming slightly when the other man holds his gaze earnestly, “I’m not going anywhere Yuri.”

There’s a strange new heat that’s spreading inside of Yuri’s chest and he takes a sharp breath to try and stop its expansion, but the warmth engulfs his heart, his chest, his stomach, until his whole body feels lit from the inside.

“Fine,” Yuri hears himself saying, “I believe you.”

And when the other man smiles, Yuri spares a brief moment to apologize to his ancestors. He’s not sure he’s going to have ice in his bones or snow in his breaths ever again, not with the gentle warmth of Yuuri’s presence beside him, warding off the chill.


End file.
